He Likes, She Likes
by nitpickernose
Summary: Likes and dislikes. Everyone has them, but over the course of time, Watanuki and Yuuko begin to learn each other's likes and dislikes. A little AU, set if Watanuki and Yuuko had a few more years before chapter 182. YuukoxWatanuki, Yuuwata.


**He Likes, She Likes**

**Paring: YuukoXWatanuki**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, all belong to Clamp and a little to Funimation**

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Everyone has them.

Watanuki Kimihiro. He has his perceptions, his quirks, his ideals and worst fears, as well as – like most human beings – his likes and dislikes.

But he is not alone

Ichihara Yuuko. She has her tastes, her oddities, her wishes and tragic truths, and like any other person, she has her likes and dislikes.

It is only in the company of each other they these two become increasingly aware of their individual needs as well as one another. Shame that at first all he could concentrate on where her flaws, and all she seemed interested in were his irritabilities.

He notices right away: she likes to smoke.

She realizes first off: he likes to complain.

She likes to tease him and mess with his mind. He likes to grumble and feel sorry for himself. She likes to talk closely and quietly and he likes to yell and scream. Her ability to drive him utterly insane is almost hypnotizing as it is confusing and he constantly finds himself unable to imagine not following her will. This power that she wields like a scythe slits and slices away at his judgment until all he can do is believe in her. She can control him and he allows it and he knows. . . _he knows_ that she likes that most of all.

He dislikes change. He doesn't want people thwarting his routine or breaking his habits. She dislikes those who are set in their ways but, hell, she's been drinking too long to quit now.

Watanuki sees that while she likes to drink all different types of alcohol, she seems particularly fond bourbon, not sake like he had originally thought. But she always retrieves it from the treasure room herself and only drinks it when she thinks he's not watching.

He dislikes spirits, and she dislikes the fact that he dislikes them. He dislikes that she always has a price. . .for _everything _and she dislikes that he's always thinking that everything is_ free_.

Still, their lists grows more and more.

She likes to sleep, he likes to sing much to the displeasure of Yuuko. She likes to boss him around, and he likes to be jealous even though he denies it, she sees how he watches that girl he likes and how her eyes light up when she talks to that sulky, handsome priest's grandson. She likes to always be right, and he hates the fact that she always is, and he likes creeping into the shop after school to find her passed out on the couch because that means he can work in peace and quiet at least until dinner.

He finds it weird that for a woman who keeps her past a silky black, tempting secret and allows mystery to surround her like the curls of smoke that drift from her lips that she likes to talk. He honestly believes that if he sat her front of a mirror with only her reflection that she would talk herself to death. She thinks that it's odd that he becomes annoyed so easily at the slight glance from her or the simplest words from that sullen achier, yet he can be so kind and gentle to a complete stranger. She sometimes wonders if he is only courteous to those he does not know.

One of the rarest lessons of this life is time. Through time changes occur and _hitsuzen _flourishes, as well as their likes and dislikes.

He learns that despite being carefree and immature, she can be very perceptive and wise. She learns that through all his whining and lecturing, he is also very optimistic and open-minded. She likes to teach him, and he likes to be taught.

His cooking is something she likes very much, and he likes cooking just about as much as she likes eating. She likes to drink under the moon. He once would tell her that she only had moon viewing parties as an accuse to drink, but he later comes to believe that she drinks as an accuse to watch the moon.

More often than not, he yells at her for waking him up so early in the morning to work for her, but she soon realizes that he doesn't mind as much as he lets on. He likes to get up early because he likes to watch the sun rise. Every dark and quiet morning she's spied on him and she sees how he always turns his head to gaze out the window as those first few rays wash away the blackness of the skies turning them royal purples, soft pink, and finally sapphire blue.

He dislikes her hangovers, not just because she makes him run to almost every single pharmacy to pick up whatever remedy will work on her aching head, but because it's one of the rare times he ever sees her in actual pain. She dislikes it when he doesn't talk, because his silence is more annoying than his moaning and whining. He's only silent when he's truly unhappy.

She likes running water over her hands. He remembers on a hot summer day when he was watering the garden and he had sprayed the hose in her direction as she sat on the porch, the jets of water arching through the air and landing a few feet short of where she sat. She had put her hands under the water then, and he saw her close her eyes as the cool rivets slipped through her fingers and spilled to the ground.

She likes to laugh, and he likes that it's not always at his expense. He likes to smile, and she likes it on those special instances that she can make him smile. He likes to work, and it knocks his knees out when he learns that so does she. He had almost asked her about this once, but stopped when he thought about all the skills, abilities and knowledge that she has acquired and she must have had to put forth some effort to reach those achievements.

Like most women, she likes to read manga, but she likes the pre-war stuff, he prefers novels, but he also has his guilty pleasure manga that he sometimes reads. He's pretty sure she knows, because he had found a missing volume in her treasure room once. And he's almost certain that she had put it there for him to find on purpose.

The witch says that she's neutral, that she's neither good nor evil, that she has to maintain balance. But he knows better. She likes to grant wishes when they bring about joy and happiness, and she dislikes it when they cause pain and misfortune. She likes to work around the system of – whatever the hell system this universe is using – helping people. She bends, maneuvers and cheats whenever a wish will bring happiness to the merciful, but she is unflinchingly harsh and strict when a wish will cause justice for those who deserve to be punished.

He likes it when she watches the rain, and he likes that he can find a nice pair of dry clothes in her closet on those stormy days. She likes drinking tea with him during those quiet times, and she likes that he likes it as well. He likes passing the tea cups to her, and he likes it when his warm fingers lightly touch her tepid ones. He likes to think that maybe he can help with that.

This is when he begins to like change.

She likes watching him age, because he's turning into such a fine young man, and he likes watching her stay the same because it's nice to be able to catch up with her. He likes being able to dream, to meet with Haruka-san and Sakura-san and Yuuko-san. He likes the comfort they give him – that _she _gives him. He likes how gentle she is, how genuine she becomes, and he wonders if he's glimpsing into the real Yuuko during these nightly meetings. That perhaps it is only during dreams that she is allowed the freedom to be herself as he sees a fiery emotion light up her eyes that are nothing like the bored stare she normally has when awake, and he can't help but fall into the depths of her gaze.

She dislikes seeing him in pain, to watch him question himself and his humanity, his worth. She dislikes that he constantly, but unconsciously wonders if he'd be better off erasing himself. She dislikes that he doesn't understand who he is, not because he lost his memories, but of how special he is. How important he is to others.

He dislikes that she always has a price. . .for _everything . . ._and that she will always need a price because she can never give any of herself to anyone. He dislikes that her compensation is loneliness, and he dislikes that he can't do anything about it.

She likes that he cares for her. She likes that he wants to grant _her _wish. She's never met anyone who wanted to grant her wish before. She likes his selflessness, and he likes the idea that the sorceress that grants wishes can also wish herself.

Watanuki likes the way her hair dances in the wind, and she likes it when light reflects from his golden and blue eyes. He likes the way her long, spindly fingers wind and curl around a doorframe before she enters a room and she likes the way his warm hands cradle every ounce of food he prepares like a small enfant. He likes how her voice floats through the house like wind between the wood as he falls asleep in his futon, lulling him to sleep. She likes his shadow when he hovers over her form when she's drunk or tired, how his long, dark reflection stretches over her body, covering her completely.

She likes how he bickers with Mokona, and he likes how Mokona adores her.

He dislikes hearing her talk about that sorcerer. He dislikes the angry color of pink that tint her cheeks and how her eyes dim the tiniest bit. And though he rather likes the bitter twinge of pressure that burns in his chest when he watches Doumeki excel at_ everything_, he _hates_ the hot, salty fire that rolls and licks his insides whenever Yuuko brings up that stupid magician's name. And he thinks that she likes that he hates it.

She dislikes what that unlucky girl does to him, but against her will she rather likes the girl. She likes it even better when Watanuki realizes that he and that girl are better off as friends.

He likes the way his heart speeds up when she touches his cheek, and she likes to see him blush as she does so. He likes standing outside of her door when she's asleep sometimes and hearing her soft breathing, it comforts him and gives him an odd sense of normalcy. She likes how he defends her honor, more often than he use to back when he first began working for her.

He likes the way her kimono sometimes slips over her thighs when she crosses her legs, and she likes that he looks.

She likes the way his glasses fog when he takes the top off of a pot of boiling water, and he likes how she takes her finger and draws a butterfly over the steamed lenses.

She likes the way he grasps her wrist as she does this, and he likes the feel of her veins under skin as he traces his finger over them. She likes the way his eyes search her face. He likes that after years of her being taller than him and after all the times she's had to bend down to bring her face closer to his, he's now tall enough to bring his face down closer to hers.

He likes that her lips are soft, and she likes that his mouth is warm. He likes the noise the fabric of his shirt makes as she moves her hands over it. She likes the sound of his breath against her neck as he inhales into her skin.

She likes the feel of his skin between the sheets. He likes how her dark hair fans out over the pillows. He likes the creaking of wood as her bed moves. She likes how he breathlessly and reverently sighs her name in her ear.

They like the life they have together, but she dislikes how short-lived it will be. She likes growing eggplant in her garden, and he likes talking her into growing lilies. He likes waking up to see her watching the stars at night, and she likes climbing back into his arms when she's finished.

He likes the idea of celebrating her birthday, and he dislikes that she never tells him when it is.

He likes watching her sleep. After all the years he's known her, it's still hard to get used to seeing her like this. To be the one who gets to see a woman of her status this way, open and vulnerable, her long lashes closed and her chest moving up and down gently, bangs messily covering her eyes – she's the eighth wonder of the world, and only he knows that it exists.

She likes to tease him when he's taking a bath. Peeking through the door and whispering lusty little comments as he throws a wash cloth in her direction.

He likes making love to her on the veranda, knowing that they're out in the open but mostly no one can see them. He dislikes sex in the treasure room. All that dust builds up quickly, and she doesn't really like being sneezed on.

She won't let him touch her in the kitchen which is odd because that's where they shared their first kiss. She says it's unsanitary since he prepares her meals in there but he knows that she likes spontaneity so he is still conniving a way to seduce in the room he spends most of his time.

She likes how he compensates every touch of affection with a kiss and he likes how she apologizes from their fights with an open confession about herself. He likes that she trusts him with that information.

He likes the idea of a more legal future with her, and dislikes how quiet she becomes when he brings it up. She likes that he wants to, but dislikes knowing their time is growing shorter.

She likes that she loves him, and loves that he loves her back.

He dislikes goodbyes, and she dislikes the tears that spring into his eyes as she begins to fade. He dislikes the wither of hope in her eyes, and he dislikes that he can't move to hold her, to free her, to pull her away from the darkness that is creeping over her. And she hates the way he cries her name.

But he loves it when she tells him she's precious to him. That she means the world to him, and that her only wish is for him to keep existing. She loves it when the last thing she hears is him vowing to meet her again and that love is the last thing she feels. . . .

He hates it when she's gone.

He hates how quiet the shop is now. He hates how Mokona little smile as shrunken into nothing but a fine line. He hates how high Maru and Moro voices still are but without the joy that used to echo in them. He hates sleeping alone. He hates that Doumeki never leaves him alone anymore. Hates that Himawari blames her bad luck on Yuuko's death. He hates that he isn't really sure how to ask for compensation, hates that he's always getting hurt. He hates how the others worry about him.

But above all, he hates the void that's left inside of him. He hates that he has to wait and wait and wait. He hates that he thinks about her so much, and wonders if she's met that magician and has forgotten all about him.

He likes that she's not completely gone. He likes that there are others who still remember her. He likes that he's not totally alone, and she left him with firm friends and a life worth living.

He likes to smoke from her pipe.

He likes knowing that his time with her was well spent, and that it gave him some happiness, if only for a short period. He likes to think that he will see her again. He likes to imagine what will happen when he does. He likes waking up to that thought every morning.

And, more than anything, he loves having that hope.

**The End**

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**Author: Well, this wasn't ment to be my next fic, it just started out as a warm up and drabble, and then just snowballed into a story. Of course, I can't write drabbles. Hopefully I'll have my next fic up soon. I hope you all enjoyed!**

**EDIT: So, I think I might actually take a break for while from writing Watanuki/Yuuko fics. No one is really reading these stories. And it's just too much work and time. I really appriciate those who reviewed my work. Thank you so much. Also, the well is kinda running dry on my end, I need some time to think up so more ideas. Thanks again!**


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